


Inner Thoughts

by ephemeralslytherin



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: First Kiss, Hogwarts Eighth Year, M/M, Pre-Relationship, Roommates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-22
Updated: 2017-02-22
Packaged: 2018-09-26 05:26:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9864911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ephemeralslytherin/pseuds/ephemeralslytherin
Summary: Prompt #179: "You haven't even touched your food."When Harry and Draco were randomly paired to share a room for their eighth year of their Hogwarts education, neither of them were thrilled about the arrangement. But, the war was over, and Harry wanted to be able to put the past behind him. After a few months, the two become civil towards one another - friends, even. One quiet evening, tucked away in their room with the intention of studying for their impending NEWTs, the two boys open the door to a conversation that independently concerns the  feelings they've both been harboring and what's really bothering Draco Malfoy.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Check out my Tumblr for more writings of mine, percweasly.tumblr.com

Harry Potter was commonly believed to be a hero. Everyone he met wanted his autograph, a picture together, or just to express their undying gratitude to the savior of the wizarding world. And Harry hated it. This reaction seemed to be the case with nearly everyone he came in contact with, aside from his fellow returning eighth year students, including Draco Malfoy. 

Especially Draco Malfoy.

For the first few months of the school year, they both had to deal with their assigned living quarters and the fact that they were somehow placed together. Malfoy was different after the war; Harry could honestly tell how much it had changed him. But then again, it had changed everyone. 

After the first few months, Harry found his attitude and his actions towards Malfoy evolve from reciprocated cold toleration to an (also reciprocated) warmer acceptance. They often walked to their shared classes with one another and occasionally found themselves assisting the other with their revisions (particularly Malfoy helping Harry with his Potions assignments). So, it wasn’t uncommon, especially at this time in the semester, for the two boys to be found in their room surrounded by piles of books and papers, a few plates of dinner brought up by the House Elves scattered amongst the chaos.

They were both focusing on Transfiguration this particular night, and Malfoy had refused to tell Harry what he wanted when Harry announced he was going to send for some food. Harry figured Malfoy didn’t think he would have the time to spare for dinner, but it seemed Malfoy really hadn’t been eating much of anything lately, so maybe there was more to it than Harry thought. However, as soon as the food arrived, Harry set aside his Transfiguration textbook and shifted his focus to the plate of roast beef and treacle tart. 

Malfoy barely glanced up when he noticed the arrival of an extra plate, but sighed and pulled it closer nonetheless, causing Harry to grin. Malfoy even set aside the parchment and quill he had been scribbling away at for the past hour. 

Harry knocked back a glass of pumpkin juice, spelling it full again. “Malfoy,” Harry said softly to the blindingly blonde haired boy sitting cross-legged on the hardwood floor a few feet from him. “You haven’t even touched your food.” He had, in fact, simply been sitting still for the past few minutes, staring at Harry, but Harry couldn’t tell if Malfoy was actually staring at him or if he was only staring off into space, mind still in his studies.

Malfoy finally met his eyes. “I told you I didn’t want anything to eat,” he said softly. Okay, so Malfoy had definitely been staring at Harry. Oddly, it made Harry’s stomach do a bit of a flip, and it wasn’t because of all the food he had just popped down. 

“Oh, come on,” Harry said casually. “You’ve got to be hungry. Transfiguration revision always makes me hungry.”

“Everything makes you hungry,” Malfoy spat back, and Harry grinned. Normally, he’d notice a smile of some sort of a glint in Malfoy’s eye, but his expression was instead quite blank. Something wasn’t right.

“Hey,” Harry began, sliding his near empty plate off to the side of him. “Is everything alright?” He leaned forward and put his hand on Malfoy’s knee, in a manner that Harry had intended to be comforting. Malfoy simply shifted his gaze from staring at Harry’s face to staring at Harry’s hand on his knee. He made no move to forcibly remove it, and neither did Harry. 

“Yes.” Malfoy’s answer was short and clipped, and Harry could tell it was a lie. 

“You don’t have to lie to me, Malfoy,” Harry said in a kind voice.

“And you don’t have to pretend to care,” Malfoy retorted, moving his eyes back to meet Harry’s. 

“What makes you think I’m only pretending to care?” 

“Because. You’re you, and I’m me. Why the fuck would a lion like you have a morsel of care to spare for a snake like me?” Hurt flashed through Malfoy’s eyes, and their gazes held until Malfoy finally broke away, turning his attention to his hands in his lap.

Harry was baffled. “I-I’m not a lion,” he protested, and Draco said nothing. “You know,” he said, mostly to fill the silence, “the sorting hat nearly put me in Slytherin.” Malfoy’s head shot up upon hearing this. “The only reason it didn’t is because I fought against it. I think it figured my bravery used to defy what it thought was weighed more heavily than any other Slytherin qualities I might have had.” Harry looked up sheepishly after his confession to find Malfoy’s eyes locked with his, more intensely than before. 

“And trust me,” Harry said, “I do care. I care because you’re one of the few people who still treats me as Harry, not as the fucking savior of the wizarding world.” He paused and all he could hear was the sound of Draco’s breathing and the wind whistling beyond their window. “I appreciate that, so much. And I appreciate you for being who you are, and for letting me be the picture of who I am in your eyes, not who I am in the eyes of the world. You don’t know what that means to me.”

Malfoy just sighed, a certain sadness laced within it. Harry’s eyes danced all over Malfoy’s face, mapping it unconsciously. Malfoy truly had a distinct type of beauty to him, all planes and ridges, but striking nonetheless. “I never wanted to take it,” Malfoy whispered, not meeting Harry’s eyes. 

“Take what?” Harry asked gently, confusion threading through his thoughts.

“The Dark Mark,” Malfoy supplied, snapping his eyes up to fight Harry’s. It was only for one moment, but that one moment held enough intensity to last hours. 

“But, you didn’t take it,” Harry said, not quite grasping what Malfoy was trying to say.

“Exactly. But I probably could have gotten it if I’d desired, if I’d asked,” Malfoy said, his eyes jumping to Harry’s. “But that wasn’t what I wanted. I knew I was on the losing side. I knew you, Potter, I knew your bloody persistence, your stupidly unwavering bravery. I knew you’d win or die trying.” The vulnerability in Malfoy’s voice was unnerving and so ridiculously unexpected. Harry would expect this level of conversation from Ron, Hermione, or anyone else, really, but never from the block of ice which was Draco Malfoy. 

Maybe Draco was just melting.

“I don’t understand why you’re telling me all of this,” Harry admitted, not unkindly. He was surprised to find his voice suddenly possessing a certain vulnerability that mirrored Draco’s. 

“I just needed you to know that I’m not some evil blood supremacist,” Draco said, and Harry marveled at the amount of time it had been since Draco had refrained from tearing his gray eyes away from Harry’s emerald ones. “I just needed you to know I’m not evil,” he repeated. 

“Well, I kind of figured that after the first night when you didn’t A-K me in my sleep,” Harry said, a lighter tone to his voice.

“I’m serious, Potter.”

“So am I, Draco,” Harry said, only noticing he’d used Draco’s first name once it came tumbling out of his mouth, as natural as telling time. “I don’t think you’re evil.” Malfoy looked as if he didn’t quite believe him at first, but his face softened after a moment.

“What do you think of me then?”

Harry thought about it, thought about all the feelings he’d been having towards Draco in the past months, which were mainly reminiscent of the feelings he’d harbored during sixth year. “I think-”

He was abruptly cut off by the harsh press of lips against his, a fervent burst of emotion and vulnerability. Harry felt his lips move against Draco’s, barely aware of what was happening. He was barely able to grasp that Draco Malfoy was kissing him and Harry loved it. Harry’s hands found their way to Draco’s hair, his soft hair, and that noise Draco just made – 

And suddenly Harry’s wet mouth was greeted with a cold chill as Draco ripped himself away from Harry, a horrified expression on his face. “I’m – oh, Merlin, what am I doing? You’re not even gay, and –”

“Malfoy,” Harry said, reaching his hand up to cup the side of Draco’s face. “Shut up.” And then their lips collided again, a flurry of fire descending around them, the lion and the snake, both desperate for redemption, for normalcy, for a future, for each other.


End file.
